


An Impartial Third Party is Coming

by HarpiaHarpyja



Series: A Song of Trash and Fire [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben Solo Get Your Head Out of Your Ass, Ben Solo Go Home, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Ben Solo: A Shitty Date, F/M, Korr Sella: Tattoo Artist, Modern AU, implied reylo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 10:05:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15434673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarpiaHarpyja/pseuds/HarpiaHarpyja
Summary: A companion story to 'A Song of Trash and Fire: Ben and Rey Make a Porno', serving as an interim ficlet between Chapters 12 and 13.After getting the hell out of Philadelphia and leaving Rey to deal with bills and an incomplete porno, Ben has been trying to adjust to life in Portland—he's crashing at Lando's, he's working at Powell's, he's writing, he's getting way too into artisanal coffee houses. Life is . . . OK? The next logical step is to start getting into the dating scene.Shockingly, it proves more challenging than he thought to forget his life on the east coast—and to forget the roommate and best friend he left behind.





	An Impartial Third Party is Coming

**Author's Note:**

> This week's preview give a peek into what Ben gets up to in the months between leaving Philly and . . . whatever comes after. Ideally, this is best read after reading Chapter 12 of 'A Song of Trash and Fire: Ben and Rey Make a Porno'.
> 
> But I guess if you are the second person on this planet who has ever wondered what would happen in a Modern AU where Ben Solo and Korr Sella try to go on a date . . . today is also your lucky day.

Korrie was cool; the _coolest_. At least that was what Joph, one of Ben’s coworkers at Barista, had led him to believe when he recommended her as a tattoo artist. Joph may or may not also have heavily implied he thought Ben should consider trying to land a date with her.

And yeah, actually, Korrie was pretty cool. When Ben had stopped in for his appointment with her, he’d ended up thankful that he was her last client of the day. She hadn’t laughed when he swore loudly as the tattoo needle struck his arm near the elbow ditch. She hadn’t seemed insulted when he said that for as much as he liked the tattoo, he wasn’t sure he could stomach another. She’d been easy to talk to, and their conversation continued even after she finished up her work on him. 

So when he’d felt her eyes settle keenly on him as he was pulling on his coat to head out, he didn’t give himself time to second guess asking her to dinner. Clearly, the idea Joph had planted in his head had been enough to compel Ben to action. If she said no, well . . . he had no plans to revisit this whole tattoo thing anyway, and there were plenty of ways to settle any new-city-hookup needs.

But for some insane reason, she had agreed, and he left that night with the number of one Korr Sella in his recently added contacts.

A few nights later, he hopped a streetcar after his shift at Powell’s and spent the ride across the river downing his coffee way too quickly. He was pleased with his plan for their evening. While Korrie was working on his arm, Ben had been listening to the music in her booth. Metal, for sure, and though he’d known he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint exactly what variety it was and hadn’t wanted to end up embarrassing himself with some wildly inaccurate guess, the heavy guitar and intensity of the lyrics had reminded him of the stuff he’d favored in high school. She’d told him the band had recorded at a local studio called Black Water and that the people who owned it owned a vegan restaurant she frequented.  
So now Ben stood on the sidewalk, waiting for Korrie to meet him for dinner and drinks at Black Water Bar after her last appointment a few blocks down. Depending on how things seemed to be going, maybe they would stick around for a show if one was scheduled. He’d wanted to check, but she seemed like the kind of person to want spontaneity, so he’d resisted the urge. It all felt very casual; something about that was comforting. 

He’d just drained the last of his coffee and was crunching the cup flat between his hands when he heard her calling his name a little way down the sidewalk. She hailed him with a short wave, which he returned, and grinned as she drew up to him. 

“Hey, were you waiting long?” She looked much the same as she had during his appointment, though her hair was down and a little windswept, and she’d done some sort of makeup thing around her eyes. 

“No, not too long.”

Korrie nodded and looked relieved. “Oh, good. I planned to be out sooner, but the guy needed a few more breaks than I expected.”

“It’s fine. Gave me time to caffeinate.” He held up the mutilated coffee cup as if she required proof, then cast about for a trash can for it and found none.

“Then we’re off to a good start,” she said. “You can toss that inside. Shall we?”

They made their way in and found a table midway back, far enough from the bar that they could still talk easily but close enough to the stage to afford a decent view of any shows. It seemed it might be a while before any servers came by to take their drink orders, but that was fine. Talk came as easily as it had at the tattoo parlor.

“So were you coming off a shift at Barista, or . . .?”

“Oh, no,” Ben corrected, once he realized what she was asking. “Powell’s.”

“Ah, that’s right, I remember you mentioned you’ve got the two jobs,” she said, nodding. “I used to spend a lot of time in there, but I started to realize it was murdering my bank account.”

“Yeah, that’s a real problem.” Ben grinned, completely in agreement about the near-constant temptation presented by working in a place that absolutely lived up to the moniker ‘city of books.’ He had been trying to think of something to say, and she’d just made it so much easier. “That and the whole time-suck thing. I’m in and out as I’m scheduled, basically—but I went in there one of my first days in town, and next thing I knew four hours had passed and I was still wandering around.”

“Exactly! Pick up a book, crack it open—whoops, there goes your afternoon.”

“What kind of books were getting you?”

“Political science, mostly.” 

He blinked. “Really?” 

Too late, it occurred to him that his surprise at her answer might be insulting. It was, actually, insulting—as if she, with her winged eyeliner and septum piercing and wild hair, couldn't possibly have interests like that.

Korrie didn't seem bothered, though. She saw the way Ben's face had shifted at her answer and his own faux pas. “Don't look so surprised. I studied it a couple semesters before I decided I'd rather focus on art and went after an apprenticeship instead. But I still like to read about it.”

“Right. I didn't mean to imply . . . never mind.” She clearly wasn't offended, and there was no need to dig this hole deeper. Now would have been a great time for a server to show up. “My friend Rey did something similar.” 

He had _not_ meant to bring Rey up. It had just happened. Luckily, he cut himself off before he could go into the specifics, and how different her situation had been from Korrie’s—not that he would have divulged much of that anyway. He was one of the few people who knew those details of Rey’s history. It would have felt like a betrayal of trust to tell a practical stranger.

“Oh yeah? So, he’s an artist, or . . .?”

“She. And no, she’s an auto mechanic. Though, actually, she does these sketches sometimes. Little cartoons. Patterns too. Never took lessons or anything, but they're not bad.”

“Ah, see? We all have at least one secret nerdy hobby.” She planted her elbows on the table and looked at him intently. “So what's yours?”

Ben snorted, leaned back in his seat, and weighed his answer. Ah, fuck it. “Are you familiar with the concept of LARP?”

Korrie chuckled and nodded. “Vaguely. Not my thing, but that qualifies. There are probably some groups in the area. You ought to look into it.”

Finally a server arrived to drop off some waters and take their drink orders, looking harried—he scribbled down the names of their beers and flitted off with assurance that he’d be right back so they could order food. Ben had his doubts. He studied the menu for a minute or so, though, glancing up at Korrie as she did the same. It certainly seemed to be the case that she’d been here plenty of times before, because she basically scanned it once with her eyes, nodded to herself, and set it down.

“We should share some nachos,” she told him. “They’re one of the best things here. You ever had seitan before?”

Ben squinted at description of the nachos and shook his head. “No. Heard of it though.” He’d be ticking that one off the list tonight, sounded like. “So, I guess I should’ve asked—are you actually vegan, or do you just . . . dabble?”

“Sort of actually vegan? I try it out a while and always fall off the wagon after a few months. Most people have a hard time giving up cheese, supposedly, but it turns out my weakness is butter.”

“It does make toast considerably more exciting.”

“That and just about everything else.”

The server did indeed arrive back in a more timely manner than Ben expected, and once their orders were in, Korrie scooted in her seat, squirming as she removed her jacket. The shirt she wore underneath revealed two full tattoo sleeves—the right seemed to be some sort of astronomy theme, or a solar system, while the left featured a less cohesive assortment. She immediately caught Ben gawking.

“How’s your arm healing, by the way?” she asked.

“Fine.” His eyes were still scanning her arms as he did some quick math—his had taken three hours, give or take. How long had _all that_ taken? “Kind of getting itchy now.”

“Ah, the fun part. You reconsidering that hard line ‘no more tattoos’ stance yet?”

“Not remotely.” 

“Fair enough. Though hey, these started out as just one,” she said, waving her arms a little. “You never know when the urge may strike again.”

“It’s possible,” he conceded. He was tempted to ask her about her own tattoos, but then thought that might be the sort of question she got sick of answering. “So you said this is where Death Star recorded, or performed, or . . . ?”

Ben looked around, thinking the place didn’t seem much like a recording space, unless there was some hidden side of the building he hadn’t noticed. It took Korrie a moment to catch on, and when she did she shook her head. 

“Oh? Oh, the music playing in my booth? No, no, that was Starkiller—they recorded down the road a bit, over the boulevard. Same owners, though, so you’re close.” A half smile tugged at her lips. “Death _stars_ is a Swedish band. Maybe that’s what you were thinking of?”

“Ah. Right genre, wrong country.” Ben wondered if he ought to try to save face further, but suddenly a basket of nachos was touching down between them, the server already up and away like a ghost, and provided a better diversion from the topic at hand.

They passed the next minutes making more small talk as they ate. It should have been just as easy as it had been the last time they’d seen each other—not that it was difficult now, necessarily—but now that some time had passed, Ben sensed a difference. Maybe it was just the fact that the last time had been business. Tonight, there were stakes beyond a transaction and a few hours of amiable conversation while Korrie worked and he tried not to squirm. It really had been too long since he’d done anything like this seriously. Tinder hookups in Philly had been little more than that for at least the last year or two; conversation had rarely factored in much. 

But he liked Korrie, and he thought she liked him, and tonight felt like it was worth the effort and minor discomfort inherent to a first date. They had yet to hit any prolonged silences, so that had to be a good sign.

“I’m gonna assume you’re enjoying these,” Korrie ventured after a little longer, when the chips had been considerably decimated and Ben appeared to be showing no signs of slowing down as they continued to talk.

He nodded, mouth half full, and wiped his hands on a napkin. “I was bracing myself for them to be . . .” He caught himself about to say ‘gross’—his limited experience with vegan meat substitutes had not left him impressed—but realized just in time how that _might_ not be the sort of thing to say in this situation. “They’re really good. I don’t know if I would’ve given them a chance on my own, but I’m glad I did.”

“That’s honest,” she said with a shrug. “It’s not everyone’s thing, sure, but people can be sort of set in their ways. Good to try something new once in a while and expand.”

Ben nodded. As much as he was enjoying them, the nachos were making him think of those weird chips Rey had been practically obsessed with and always kept a bag of around the apartment. _She’d_ probably try everything on this menu without batting an eye and still have room to blow through the beer list. 

_Stop._

“My mom used to say stuff like that,” he commented instead. Okay, maybe bringing parents into the conversation was a bit personal, and maybe a woman didn’t want to be be compared to her date’s mother, but it was far better than where his mind had been heading. “Usually right before we were about to have something for dinner she suspected I’d complain about.”

“Smart lady.”

“Yeah, she is. Though I think after a while the only reason she started sending me home with leftovers when I visited was because she knew Rey was a lot less picky than I am.” _Goddammit_. Ben cleared his throat and stuffed a heaping forkful of nachos into his mouth.

Korrie narrowed her eyes and took a sip of her cocktail. “This the same Rey as auto-mechanic-Rey?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“So, also your roommate? Live-in . . .?”

“Roommate, yeah. Since college,” he said, trying to qualify quickly. “Started out for the sake of splitting bills but we sort of just never stopped.” Ben was aware it was so much more than that, but Korrie didn’t need to hear about it, and that wasn’t why he was here.

“I know that feeling,” she replied after a pause. “You’re on your own now, out here, right? That must be different after so long of being with someone else.”

He wasn’t sure, but the way she said “being with someone else” seemed _weighty_. He was probably just being paranoid and reading into things where he had no need to. And she was giving him a reason to veer away from the topic of Rey, yet again, so he took it. “Kind of. Living with my uncle, technically, until I can find a place.”

From there it was easy enough to recover, and as they finished the nachos and their meals arrived and their drinks were refilled, Ben began to relax into the flow of the evening. They talked about their families, about growing up—it turned out that Korrie had spent most of her youth in D.C.—about hobbies, about the best things worth seeing and doing in their respective cities. All cliche stuff, when he thought about it, but he figured that was generally how this kind of thing went. It also struck him that Korrie seemed to be more a listener than a talker, such that by the time they were finished eating and had settled up the bill, he felt as if he still knew relatively little about her. That seemed like grounds to ask her out again; this had been fun. So far.

“There’s a show here in about . . .” She glanced at her phone to check the time as Ben drained the remains of his drink. “Forty minutes or so. Wanna stick around? I have no idea whether the band’s any good, but I’ve never regretted it.”

“I’d been wondering,” he admitted. “Yeah, let's stay.”

“Good.” But she started to stand, grabbing her jacket from the back of her seat and gesturing to him. “I want some fresh air for a bit, though.”

“Oh, sure.” That was a fine idea, actually. The place had been filling up, which meant it had steadily become warmer and noisier since they’d arrived—neither were things Ben particularly enjoyed. “We can grab a spot near the bar when we come back in.” 

Outside, the temperature was almost chilly enough to qualify as cold, but after being indoors it was a refreshing break from the stuffiness. They strolled a little ways down the sidewalk, away from the knot of patrons milling around the entrance to the bar, walking close enough that their arms brushed. When they stopped under a streetlight across from a bank, Korrie leaned against the side of a building and began digging around in her purse. 

“You don’t mind if I smoke, do you?” she asked as she searched. “Couldn’t do it in there and I could really use it.”

Ben blinked, for some reason flummoxed by the question. He didn’t mind, but his thoughts had been elsewhere. “No, go ahead.”

He watched as she continued picking through her bag, but after a minute she gave up with a groan. “Ugh, shit. I could’ve sworn I . . .” Her eyes darted and she nodded with a sudden realization. “Left them in my drawer at the shop.”

“It’s not far, right? We could just go get them.” 

She seemed tempted by the idea, but then shook her head. “Nah, it’s okay. I’m supposed to be trying to quit. Maybe this is a sign.” Korrie laughed at her apparent misfortune and looked up at him, leaning her weight back onto the wall behind her. “You can just distract me from it til we go back in.”

Before Ben could really process what he was doing beyond the notion that Korrie looked very pretty even under a glaring streetlight and had told him to distract her, he was leaning forward to kiss her. He _did_ kiss her—kind of. At the last second she turned her face away and pushed a hand gently to his chest, so all he really ended up doing was brushing his lips against her cheek as she made a little “oop!” noise and sidestepped him. 

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” He straightened up and stepped back. This _had_ been going well. Past tense. “I . . . completely misread that.”

Korrie snorted and nodded slowly. Her arms were crossed but she was otherwise unruffled and didn’t seem to think he’d meant any harm. “I noticed. I meant distract me with talking. We’ve been handling that pretty well the last few hours, don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” He sighed roughly and tried to find it funny, but he mostly just felt like an asshole. Had he been reading her wrong this whole time?

“It’s okay. You’re cute, but I really did just want a cigarette and a chat,” she said after a few more moments, letting her hands drop. “Honest mistake?”

“Definitely a mistake. Well. Not _you_ , but me.”

“I get it.” Korrie leaned back again, as if nothing amiss had happened. Her eyes tracked a car passing behind Ben, then returned to him. “Hey. Tell me if this is too prying, but I wanted to ask earlier and it didn’t seem like there was ever a great moment. I didn’t want to make it awkward.”

“But now that I’ve taken care of that,” Ben jumped in, following her line of thought. He looked warily at her and shuffled his feet, hands in his pockets, one fist clenching and releasing. “Sure.”

“Is the reason you moved out here because you and her broke up? Or did the two of you break up because you were moving and didn’t wanna try some long-distance thing?”

“What?”

“You and your ‘roommate’,” she qualified. “Your friend Rey. You two were dating, right? I just have to ask. Because it would explain a lot.”

“What?” Ben repeated. “No. We weren’t dating. Ever. It wasn’t about that at all. She was a friend. Is a friend.”

Korrie’s mouth went thin and she nodded again, clearly unconvinced. Or confused. “Oh. My bad. It’s just, you spent a lot of time talking about her tonight.”

Ben just stared at her, feeling his face grow warm and hoping the lights didn’t reveal how pink he surely was as he tried to think of what to say. It didn’t matter what he’d felt for Rey then, or now. He was here, it was all over, it was all ruined, he couldn’t fix it. It had been too long. It was a hopeless case. 

“I guess I did,” he finally managed. Korrie was right; he had spent way too much time talking about Rey. It was just that every time the subject changed, there was almost always something about it that made him think of some story that involved her, or the way she’d react, or what she would think of it. He really missed her, and ignoring it was evidently doing him no favors. “That was rude of me.”

“I wouldn’t recommend spending a date that way again,” she began with a dry smile. “I didn’t mind much, actually. Clearly she was a big part of what made Philly worth sticking around for you, and I know what it’s like to leave the people you care about behind and move so far. ”

He nodded silently, hoping the worst had passed. What the fuck was happening?

“But let me offer you some advice anyway, as an impartial third party,” Korrie continued, as Ben grappled with the feeling of something squeezing his lungs. “If there _is_ something else going on there, deal with it. Please. For your sake and hers, and frankly for anyone else you might go out with. Because I’ve been the rebound person, and I’ve been the person _on_ a rebound. And they both suck, and they both get you nowhere good.”

“Uh.” 

He felt flattened out and completely incoherent. This _should_ have felt unjust, being told how to handle his emotional affairs by a practical stranger. An “impartial third party”? He didn’t want an impartial third party! He knew exactly what he wanted, and what he was doing, and why he was doing it. Or he had convinced himself he did for the last few hours. And now Korrie was giving him a very blunt reminder of the things he’d been trying not to think about for months. 

It was uncalled for. It was outrageous. It was . . . actually really decent of her. 

Ben swallowed. “Yeah, well, I don’t—that’s not . . .” He tried to shake his head and nod at the same time and just looked like a deranged dashboard bobblehead instead. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good. I apologize if I’m completely out of line with that.” Her mouth curved into a slow, careful smile. “But I hear the most ridiculous, outrageous shit from clients. You have no idea. I kind of love it because I’m a gossip fiend and can’t mind my own business; but I also can’t be that honest with them. And I like you, and you seem like you appreciate honesty.”

He couldn’t help laughing a little, even if he was still tense and confused by the way this night had suddenly veered off course. 

“Okay. Fair.” He cleared his throat and turned to lean beside her on the wall, careful this time to keep some distance between them lest she think he still hadn’t gotten her point and was actually just a creep. “Honest question: Is this date officially over?”

“The date? Yes, I think so,” she said. “But there’s still a show in about a half hour, and I still want to check it out. And I still wouldn’t mind having a friend along.”

Of all the things Ben would have expected to feel at an answer like that, relief hadn’t been one of them; but that was exactly what he felt. Even if this was intensely embarrassing, he’d done far worse. And could it hurt to have a friend here? He’d blown it with the ones he left behind.

“Yeah, what the hell. I wouldn’t mind that either.” 

Maybe he really did enjoy Korrie’s company that much, and she’d put up with him tonight— _still_ wanted to, for some reason. But there was something else, too: the prospect of having a few more hours to drink and actually enjoy himself before he would need to go home and face whatever this conversation had just stirred. It was the same things he thought about when he had too little to keep him busy, or when he was having trouble falling asleep, or when he’d be sitting there in front of his laptop, trying to write, ideas refusing to come.

He could go home. He could see his parents. He could talk to Rey. 

_No, you can’t._

As they turned to head back inside, Ben felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and he slipped it out to check. It wasn’t a text or a missed call, just a reminder he’d missed earlier.

 

_DAD RETIREMENT PARTY  
SAT 23 MAR; 6PM @BOBA FÛCK_

 

Ben stowed his phone and entered the bar. The party was a week away and he still hadn’t bought a plane ticket, or even decided if he was going. He’d told Leia he would, but he’d wormed his way out of things like that before. He would need to decide, soon. In the back of his mind, though, he knew the decision had already been made. 

He could go home.

**Author's Note:**

> The playlist for this story—and the larger series of which it is a part—can be found over at [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/christa.cordero/playlist/6d8DONE0wOAhugyNWgPHh1) . . . the tunes just keep coming.
>
>>   
> In A Big City - Titus Andronicus  
> No One’s Gonna Love You - Band of Horses  
> Once in my Life - The Decemberists  
> A Better Son/Daughter - Rilo Kiley  
> 


End file.
